Ritorukira
by Majestika
Summary: It was lucky he did this, for if he had not, another human would have found the Death Note. Ryuk would follow one old man for about a week before he freaked out and tried to burn the Death Note. Ryuk would be back in the Shinigami Realm, bored, Harry would go back to the Dursleys' home, malnourished, and everything would be… normal. Will not be finished, T for murder.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N./ This is something I've whipped up over the course of a few weeks during my free time at school. I would like to point out that I have never finished Death Note, and I've not read Harry Potter for a long time. But I was bored and this happened. I have no intention of finishing it up, like, at all. But I kinda like it so it's on the internet now. Also, there's supposed to be line-breaks here and there but I'm too lazy to plug 'em in. So deal with it. I don't own HP or DN, don't sue me, fuk da po-lice, I'm out.**

Light Yagami had forfeited ownership of his Death Note. Who knew how long until he got it back? Ryuk had gotten the abridged version of Light's elaborate plan (which heavily depended upon a lot of luck, human error, and the right watch), and from what he understood, it could be months - maybe years - before Ryuk could be amused by Kira again.

The fact was, Ryuk didn't know if he could wait that long. The Shinigami Realm was _boring, _and the apples were _awful._ Downright revolting. The shriveled apples of the Shinigami Realm might hold him off for a short time, but could he stand to go a month without the large, red, juicy delicacies that populated the human world?

No, no, no. He could not.

Luckily, Ryuk's doe-eyes (not literally, of course) and a tall tale to the Shinigami King had scored him another Death Note.

Now he had three. One for him, one for Light, and one to amuse himself with. Ryuk gave a small, cold chuckle as he eagerly jotted the rules down in this new Death Note. Where should he drop it? America? Germany? England?

_England sounds nice, _thought Ryuk. In truth it didn't matter where he dropped it. English was basically the universal language of sentient beings, and surprises were nice, but he wanted to find it quickly. So he would 'accidentally' drop it in England.

He _really _needed some apples. Now.

"Whoops," mumbled Ryuk as he dropped it into the human world. "I dropped my Death Note. My, that is unfortunate."

Another Shinigami, gambling with comrades a couple yards away, let out a bale of blood-chilling laughter. "Wow, Ryuk, you're such a clutz," the Shinigami exclaimed. "How often do you plan on dropping those things? Butterfingers, is what you are. Come gamble with us."

Ryuk had to wait a little while before any humans found his new Death Note, but he didn't want to spend that little while gambling. He couldn't focus, not without a belly full of apples and an extra just in case. "Nah, I'm just gonna take a nap," Ryuk said, laying on the ground and crossing his legs.

"A nap," scoffed one Shinigami. "He sounds like a human, honestly."

Harry Potter had a black eye and scuffed, bleeding knees.

The black eye was from his cousin, Dudley, when the fat boy punched him in the face. The bleeding knees were from one of Dudley's goons - Mark or something - who had chased him behind the primary school and kicked him in the back, making Harry stumble and land on his knees.

The young boy - 'young' meaning 'five years old' - was walking back to his aunt and uncle's house after a long day of running, getting punched, getting called wretched names, and more running. He wished to any God or Deity that may (or may not) exist that he didn't have to go back to the Dursleys' home, but where else could he go? Mrs. Figg would doubtlessly call Petunia, his aunt, if he chose to go to her, and he didn't know anyone else.

The only thing little Harry Potter could do to comfort himself was take his time getting 'home', or rather, getting back to the house in which he slept and ate meager meals. He liked taking a root through the park. It was the longest way he was comfortable taking, and rather scenic, too. Especially at this time of day, when the sun was setting. The sun bathed the world in a warm yellow-orange, casting long shadows and making patches of light pop up within the trees' elongated silhouettes.

No one took this root but Harry, and he was grateful for that.

He didn't like people. People didn't like him. He was a freak.

Harry walked with his bright-green eyes cast downwards. Harry's vision was downright terrible, and he could barely see beyond a few feet. He'd told his Aunt Petunia that he needed glasses before, but she'd explained that he didn't 'need' glasses until he was far enough into his education that all the letters weren't three inches tall. She also seemed to think it was his fault - "If would stop reading in the dark, maybe your eyesight would be a little better," she had snidely commented once.

The best way to see where he was going was to look downwards, where things were, mostly, clear enough to perceive accurately.

It was lucky he did this, for if he had not, another human would have found the Death Note. Ryuk would follow one old man for about a week before he freaked out and tried to burn the Death Note. Ryuk would be back in the Shinigami Realm, bored, Harry would go back to the Dursleys' home, malnourished, and everything would be… normal.

But because of Harry's severe nearsightedness, his life was changed…

Harry spotted a black rectangle through his peripheral vision. He stopped abruptly and went to inspect it. Anything to take more time getting 'home'.

He crouched by the bushes and picked up the notebook, for that it what it was. He adjusted his sitting position and placed the black notebook on his lap. A single eyebrow raised a bit upon reading the words crudely inscribed into the cover: _Death Note_

Curiously, the young boy opened it, disappointed to find that it was blank. He quickly skimmed through the notebook and, sadly, it had nothing in it. What a letdown. No unfiltered ramblings of a genius, or at least a look into someone else's mind? Harry had hoped, maybe, to make a friend, but unless he could somehow track down the owner, there was no way that was happening.

Bored, he went back to the first page. May as well keep it-

_The human whose name is written in this note will die._

If Harry were older, a little less naive, he would have scowled and assumed it was a joke. But he was only five - five! - and gasped. He believed it. It was special after all. Harry's little mind was racing at a million miles an hour. He knew he shouldn't be so excited about killing people, but… the Dursleys…

He kept reading. The inside of the cover seemed to be dedicated to the rules.

_This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected._

_If the cause of death in written within the next 40 second of writing the person's name, it will happen._

_If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack._

_After writing the cause of death, details of the death must be written within the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds._

Harry let out a small breath. Could he do it, kill someone just by knowing a name and a face? He closed the Death Note and stared at it. It could be a joke, but, maybe… If it was a joke, testing it wouldn't hurt anyone, and if it wasn't a joke…

Harry stuffed it in his too-big shirt (a hand-down from Dudley) and for the first time, sprinted to the Dursleys' home. He had a stubby pencil in his cupboard under the stairs and he needed it badly.

_Vernon Dursley will choke to death at dinner, at 7:31 P.M. exactly._

Harry stared at the line in the Death Note intently. His bulky watch (huge on his wrist, also something Dudley decided he didn't want anymore) revealed to him that it was now 7:29 in the evening. His guts twisted in anticipation.

Harry was locked in the cupboard right now ("Why the Devil are you home so late? It doesn't matter - go to your cupboard, you aren't getting any dinner!" Petunia had shrieked) and Vernon Dursley, his uncle, did eat unhealthily fast, so he doubted anyone would suspect him.

Except the time. Harry's birthday was the thirty-first of July, the seventh month. Petunia may think it was suspicious how her husband died at 7:31, but how was that any evidence against Harry?

_Is this how murderers think? _Harry wondered suddenly as the time turned to 7:30. He should have been sick with himself, but instead the thought invoked a small grin. How amazing it would be to be such a murderer? Killing people with something like the Death Note, where you could control almost everything about their death - even from the comfort of your bed, probably even from across the world!

7: 31 in the evening.

Harry heard Petunia cry out. "Vernon? What's wrong?"

Coughing, the clank of cutlery hitting the table and floor. Like music. "Dudley, get me the phone! Now!" Dudley's heavy footsteps _thud thud thud thudded _against the floor, and soon sounded again as he returned with the telephone.

"My husband is choking to death, that's what my emergency is! Number 4, Privet Drive… Yes, in Surrey, you idiot! Quickly!"

Harry didn't need to hear anymore, but wanted to so bad. By the time the ambulance arrived, Harry was curled up under his thin covers, smiling serenely as his Aunt Petunia wept and tried pointlessly to dislodge the unchewed bite of steak in Vernon's throat. In his hands he held the Death Note. His Death Note.

He'd never been so glad.

Harry had overheard Petunia talking to the coroner over the phone. It was as he had intended. Vernon Dursley was dead, and to all the world it looked as if the fat man had choked on a bite of steak. A few days later, Vernon's sister, Marge, came over to plan the funeral with Petunia. Dudley had been sent up to his room. Harry was locked in the cupboard, and could hear every word.

His gaze went from the door to his bed, where his precious Death Note was hidden.

He hated Marge Dursley, with her dogs and her fat body, her wretched attitude. She had no redeeming qualities. Even Petunia disliked her. Harry pulled the Death Note out from under his mattress and readied his stubby graphite pencil. With a frown, he fixed her meaty, red, hairy face in his mind's eye.

_Marge Dursley will get mauled by all her dogs the day she gets home, and her corpse will be devoured._

It was gruesome, cruel. Too good for Marge Dursley.

"Marge is dead!" wailed Petunia over the telephone. She was talking to her friend, Yvonne, who Harry had no personal experiences with. He and Dudley were sitting at the table, eating breakfast - cold cereal, for Petunia was grieving too hard to cook. "Those darned dogs of hers… They _ate _her, Yvonne. They could only identify her with dental records!"

"A lot of food-related catastrophes lately," commented Harry idly. Petunia whirled around and slapped Harry across the face. He flinched and held his face where she'd hit him.

Harry scowled. Vernon's funeral was today. Petunia had spent his life insurance money - all of it - on just this. It was going to be a depressing, dramatic affair that everyone attending will remember forever. According to Petunia. Harry wasn't invited.

No, he was staying where he was. Mrs. Figg would be coming by the babysit him. At least she was pleasant, if a bit irritating with all of her cat photos and that boiled-cabbage musk.

Petunia huddled Dudley into the car almost an hour later.

"Mum, I'm _hungry," _moaned Dudley.

"We'll eat after this, dear," Petunia said softly. Dudley was five and stupid for his age, and had not quite caught on yet that his father was never coming back.

Harry watched them drive away. Behind him stood Mrs. Figg. "Well," she huffed, "I got up early today for this. My, I didn't get enough sleep at all. Why don't you go color or something while I catch a nap, eh?"

"Sure, Mrs. Figg," Harry nodded. Mrs. Figg made herself comfortable in a recliner, snuggled deep into the cushions, and was out like a light in a few minutes. To the sound of her snoring, Harry retrieved the Death Note from his cupboard and stole some colored pens and paper from Petunia's nightstand. Mrs. Figg was out cold, and the remaining Dursleys wouldn't be back for at least another three hours - four if Petunia fed Dudley at a restaurant, as she probably would.

Harry had to disguise the Death Note. If he did this, he could probably kill people in front of everybody, with no one even suspecting him, even if they thought a black book labeled 'Death Note' was suspicious. Harry set his most prized possession aside and got down to work.

"Hey, kid." Harry froze. He didn't recognize that voice. Who was that? "I see you've found the Death Note. Killed anyone yet?"

A little kid, not even in real school yet. Ryuk gave a mental cackle. He was really getting lucky with the humans nowadays - first a genius who fancied himself the God of the new world, and now a little kid. Who knew what a kid could use a Death Note for? Now all Ryuk needed was an apple, and his day was made!

"Hey, lemme see inside," Ryuk said, reaching for the Death Note. Harry Potter hadn't turned around to look at him yet, but when Ryuk tried to grab the notebook, Harry snatched it.

"It's mine!" he said, in a whisper but with the force of a shout. Ryuk chuckled.

"And possessive, too. Turn around, shorty," Ryuk ordered. He wanted the kid to see his face. Just imagining the look made him want to start cackling.

To his pleasure, Harry actually abided the order. Ryuk wasn't disappointed, as far as facial expressions went. His eyes, large and an almost alien color by default, widened to about the size of tea saucers, and his mouth fell open. Ryuk gave a smirk, though Harry could barely tell, as Ryuk's mouth was twisted into a sick grin perpetually.

Harry's mouth opened and closed for a moment, like a fish. Finally, the youth managed words, "What are you?" he asked. Ryuk was surprised he hadn't started screaming bloody murder yet. Then again, Harry had probably been using the Death Note, and who knew what to expect from a murdering baby?

"I'm a Shinigami," said Ryuk. Seeing Harry's blank expression, he elaborated, "A God of Death. Name's Ryuk."

"Why are you here?" demanded Harry fiercely. Apparently, 'God of Death' was a perfectly acceptable explanation.

Ryuk tried to think of a way to say in childish terms. "I dropped that Death Note there, and since you picked it up, it's yours. Until you die, or decide you don't want it anymore. I'm going to follow you until then." While Harry thought about this, Ryuk added: "By the way, you wouldn't happen to have any apples around, would you?"

Harry looked up at him, still clutching the Death Note close to his chest. "We have apples," he said. He pointed towards the kitchen. "They're in a basket on the counter."

Ryuk gave an almost girlish giggle of delight and leapt over Mrs. Figg's head to get to the kitchen faster. Sure enough, there was a basket full of big, juicy apples - green, red… Ryuk gave a whoop and grabbed two, eating one quickly and savoring the second.

Harry followed him into the kitchen, watching him devour another two, three, four apples before slowing down. "What if Mrs. Figg wakes up?" he asked.

"She can't see me, hear me, or feel me unless you let her touch the Death Note," Ryuk explained around a mouthful of apple.

"What if she hears me talking to you?"

Ryuk shrugged. "How should I know? The hag will probably think you have an imaginary friend." Ryuk popped another apple into his mouth, reached into the basket for another, but froze when he realized there were no more. He turned his head to Harry, who had somehow managed to move his paper and pens into the kitchen and make himself comfortable at the table in the short time it took for Ryuk to lament about the absence of apples.

Ryuk loomed over his shoulder. "So how many people have you killed?" asked Ryuk.

Harry glanced at the Shinigami over his shoulder, before shrugging. "Two. My Uncle Vernon and his sister."

"Not fond of them?"

"I hated them."

Ryuk watched Harry prepare a new cover for the Death Note, and finally wondered what would happen if Light regained his ownership of the Death Note. Would he have to follow Light and Harry? If things mucked up badly, he could just kill Harry, he supposed. Light was much more interesting than Harry had been, thus far.

An hour later, Mrs. Figg woke up and Harry stopped responding to Ryuk's snide commentary. His innocent guise was almost as good as Light's. Ryuk was excited to see how things played out for Harry Potter…

Harry Potter, meanwhile, was thinking about ways to kill the rest of his family. Dudley was an idiot, so he could probably have him die in an accident, and Petunia could kill herself afterwards. Dead husband, dead son? Nobody would question it. But then there was the 'when'. Harry feared he had been sloppy with Marge and Vernon - two siblings dying within a week? Outwardly, there was no connection, aside from the untimeliness. He didn't want all the Dursleys to die too soon. People may start to think Harry was cursed.

Was he? He did have a God of Death following him around…

Three hours and twenty-four minutes later, Petunia and Dudley returned. Mrs. Figg bade them farewell and went home. Petunia went to nap (or rather, weep into a pillow) and Dudley sat in his room staring off into space. Apparently, seeing his father's corpse lowered into the ground had shocked him.

Harry sat in the sitting room, Death Note open on his lap.

_Dudley Dursley will get hit by a car when out with his gang on October second._

_Petunia Dursley will commit suicide on October sixth, after dedicating all her possessions to me in her will._

Ryuk peered into Harry's Death Note. "Are you gonna use it after this?" he asked.

"Of course," Harry said, the tiniest of smiles playing on his lips. "I could never waste a gift like this. Imagine everything I could do with it. I could be a superhero."

Ryuk gave a small laugh. "Like a god?" he prompted. Did he find a mini-Kira? That would be _hilarious._

Harry shook his head. "No, no. I don't want to be a god, Ryuk," Harry began, closing his Death Note carefully and putting Petunia's pen (of which he had claimed as his own) behind his ear. "I just want to make life safer for good people."

Selflessness? In a murderer? Maybe it was just because Harry was so young, so childish. Deep down, he wanted to be a god. Just like Light. He just didn't know it yet.

_Stephen Woodland, suicide on September thirteenth_

_Penny Luck, shot down by stray bullet, September fifteenth_

_Horace McDonald, falls down flight of stairs September seventeenth_

_Daniel Scrooge, killed by a woman on September nineteenth_

Harry wrote furiously, tirelessly, in his Death Note. Newspapers were strewn about his tiny body on the kitchen floor, the names of criminals circled and color-coded. Red ink meant 'kill' now. Blue ink meant 'second chance'. Green ink meant 'free to live'. Petunia and Dudley were at the store, and for the first time ever, his aunt had left Harry home alone.

"You know, if you keep writing down the cause of death like that, you're gonna have to buy new pens," commented Ryuk idly, taking a large bite out of an apple. Petunia had been to the store yesterday as well, and had picked up more apples. She didn't know why Harry seemed to be eating so many. Frankly, she didn't care.

Harry rolled his eyes. "A small price to pay for justice," he snapped.

"All I'm saying is, they'll die whether the cause of death is written or not," sighed Ryuk. "Don't be wasteful."

"I do what I want, and besides, if all these criminals die from heart attacks, regardless of how ridiculous it seems, _somebody _is going to notice," Harry explained. "I don't want to lose the Death Note."

"Suit yourself," mumbled Ryuk. Harry was getting boring. He hoped Light's scheme would fall into place soon.

_Dean Washer, September twenty-third_

_Loren Price, September twenty-fifth_

_Peter Saxon, September twenty-seventh_

Harry didn't have time to write the cause of death. Despite his excellent literacy for a five year old, he still wrote slow. The criminals were plentiful. They needed to die, quickly. Honestly he was ticked at having caved to Ryuk's suggestion, but what choice did he have, really? It was quicker to kill them with heart attacks.

_What if someone makes a connection? _What then? Kill them. No, no, no. Harry couldn't do that. Never. It just wasn't right.

_Was killing your family 'right'?_

Harry snarled and crossed his 't' with a scary amount of force. His 'family' was a load of terrible people, who were afraid of change and didn't care about who people truly are. They hated Harry just because they hated his parents - they never outright said it, but it was true! They didn't care who Harry was. They didn't care what he had become.

_Until I started killing them._

It was almost October. They didn't know it for sure, yet, but the last thing they were going to see before they died was Harry. Standing at a distance or directly into their eyes - their minds eye, even. He didn't care. He just wanted them to know for sure why they had been damned to such a fate.

Done for the day, as Petunia would surely return soon, Harry slammed his Death Note shut and gathered up the newspapers.

"Light. Come look at this," L said just over a mumble, giving the chain connecting him and Light a tug. A forceful tug, one that almost pulled Light out of his chair.

"Ryuzaki-" started Light. The other members of the Task Force had gone to sleep for the night, but L was something of an insomniac, and if L was up, Light was up. No arguing. No questions.

L pointed at the computer screen. "It seems Kira has gone international. A little." Curiously, Light leaned over L's shoulder and inspected the news article L had open on the screen: _CLOCKWORK CRIMINAL DEATH IN ENGLAND - COINCIDENCE OR KIRA?_

Light's eyes widened as he skimmed through the article. Apparently, criminals had been dying of mysterious heart attacks every two days since late August. Just one, every two days. "God," mumbled Light, "do you think the second Kira is back?"

L leaned back in his seat and selected a doughnut from the plate beside his computer. As he spoke, he carefully inspected the placement and disbursement of the multi-colored sprinkled. "Perhaps. It is reasonable to believe that the killing started _now, _as opposed to a week or two ago, because it took the second Kira time to move into England. However, at this point, we can't eliminate the possibility of a _third _Kira. It's safest to operate under the assumption that there are now three Kiras, and that the second Kira is back and in England." As L finished speaking, he took a large bite out of his doughnut.

"How can we be sure that this Kira really is in England?" asked Light.

L grunted and took another bite of his doughnut, speaking with his mouth full: "I did a bit of research. If what I've found is correct, then this Kira is probably residing in Surrey - Little Whinging, to be more precise." L swallowed his bite of sugary mind-food. "All the victims' names, crimes, and mugshots were posted in local newspapers in Little Whinging, around the time that the deaths started. They were also posted in other newspapers, but from my research, only in that one area all the victims had their names and faces in the papers."

Light sighed, standing back a step or two, before sitting down and moaning into his hand. "A third Kira?" he mumbled.

"Unlikely, but not impossible based on what we know," L responded absently.

Light uttered a few curse words. "We need to focus on Kira now, but what if this England-Kira turns out to be really important?" he asked. "Should we have, like, Mastuda look into it?"

"God, no," scoffed L. "No, Light - _you _will be looking into this. Include Matsuda if you wish, but, you know… Mastuda isn't exactly the brightest type."

"I get it," Light said with a sigh. "I'll dabble in this England-Kira a bit, see what I can come up with."

_CLOCKWORK CRIMINAL DEATH IN ENGLAND - COINCIDENCE OR KIRA?_

Oh, no. No no no no no no no. Harry had gone out with Petunia to buy more chocolate ice cream, which his aunt was buying a lot of lately, and had spotted the headline amongst a plethora of magazines a newspapers. Killing the criminals with heart attacks had been stupid, a mistake. The media had taken notice. Harry chewed his thumb-nail as he read through the article.

Kira? He'd never heard of such an 'entity' before. Apparently now everyone was starting to think Harry was Kira.

He and Petunia had long since returned home. Harry sat on the sofa, turned his head to Ryuk, and said quietly (for Petunia was napping in the other room), "Who is Kira?"

Ryuk gave an icy chuckle. "Kira?" he inquired. "Never heard of him."

"You're lying."

"Am not," scoffed Ryuk.

Harry's face went red with frustration. "Don't play dumb! Kira kills just like I do - he probably has a Death Note of his own. And if he's as big a deal in Japan as this thing-" He brandished the newspaper at Ryuk, "- says he is, then sooner or later, the L detective may start thinking we're connected! What if I'm found? What if they take my Death Note away?"

Ryuk waved away Harry's frightened, infuriated ramblings. "Calm down, kid. The 'L detective' isn't going to suspect _you. _Look, maybe I do know a thing or two about Kira. Maybe Kira's just as big a deal in the Shinigami Realm as he is in Japan," which was an outright lie, only Rem and Ryuk cared about the going-ons in the human world, "but that doesn't mean you need to start pointing fingers. Expand your horizons a bit - get criminals from the television and internet. Go international."

Harry, despite being oddly literate and clever for a five year old, was still a five year old. He had not quite thought about this before yelling at Ryuk. The child heaved a sigh.

"Of course. Sorry, Ryuk, I'm just afraid somebody will take the Death Note away from me," Harry said. He stared at the headline, and thought of his disguised instrument of power and death under his mattress. With a shudder, he decided he couldn't leave the Death Note alone. He had to be smart if he wanted to evade capture, and if even a fool like Dudley got his hands on the Death Note, the chances of capture would sky-rocket out of proportion.

Harry lay in his bed with the Death Note propped open against his legs. He thought for a moment, and then sighed. He couldn't wait for October. With Dudley dead of an accident, Petunia would commit suicide, and poor little Harry, orphaned, alone, would be be sent into foster care, juggled about orphanages. Probably from town to town. City to city. Who knew where he would go, where he could end up?

Who he could kill?

The movement would confuse anyone observing the deaths. He didn't need to use the internet or the telly. He just had to wait until his aunt and cousin were deceased. Then, in thirteen years, when Harry would be a man, he could go anywhere, and kill anyone.

He could kill _everyone._

There was a pile of fresh papers beside his bed. Irregularity was bad. It was best if Harry didn't look like he was acknowledging or responding to any challenge or question presented to him. He selected the first paper and opened it up, going straight to the convicts. He readied his pen and began to write.

Well, irregularity was bad, but Harry felt the need to be more efficient. A criminal every day now. His hand paused over the paper. From what he could tell Kira was an dedicated deliverer of article had given him the gist of Kira. Harry admired the killer, true, but he didn't want to be recognized _as _the killer.

He needed a signature. Something personal. A moment of thought had it decided.

_Pierre Roce will draw a lightning bolt on his forehead and die on October third._

_Delilah Mills will draw a lightning bolt on her forehead and die on October fourth._

"It appears this Kira really is a new Kira," L declared.

Soichiro, Matsuda, Mogi and Aizawa looked up from the piles and clusters of papers on the table between them to see L (tugging Light around like a dog behind him) shuffling towards them. "Really?" inquired Aizawa. "How can you tell?"

Light spoke up before L could, obviously thinking this information was very important. "This Kira has started doing something more personal when he kills his victims. They've all been carving lightning bolts into their heads before having heart attacks," Light explained quickly. "Me and L think this might be a challenge of some sort. In any case, it's best to get a pair of eyes in England and investigate these."

L rolled his eyes. "Are we, ah, sending anyone from-?" Soichiro began to inquire.

"Nope," L cut him off. "Watari and I have contacts in England. These people will be investigating this new Kira. Light just wanted to inform the rest of you." Judging from how he spoke the last sentence very condescendingly, L had not thought that informing the others was vital.

Muggle Law Enforcement Connections was a weird department to work in, especially with the Japanese Ministry of Magic. Matsuda Touta was one of the few odd Aurors to be placed in such a queer department. Collectively, there was a total of thirteen wizards and witches in the MLEC. Out of these thirteen, Matsuda was the newest member - fresh out of Doazu Academy, and with the MLEC only a few months before his superiors placed him in the field.

Almost immediately, he'd been dragged into the Kira Investigation. His boss was pleased to have a man in on it, but frankly, was not too giddy to find that the man in on it was Matsuda. A rookie, and by all accounts, an idiot.

He especially looked like an idiot now.

Matsuda reported to his boss, Hatori Mouto, every week on a random day, in a random location selected by Hatori. Today it was a small tea shop in the heart of a small town just outside the Kanto region. Hatori, a short, muscled man with graying hair and a small beard, sat across from Matsuda. Hatori waited until they had been served tea, before wandlessly casting a charm around their table. Now they could talk in peace.

"Run through it, Touta," grumbled Hatori as he sipped his tea.

Matsuda tugged his collar uncomfortably, not sure how to put it. It was the first real news - real, _real _news - he'd had for Hatori Mouto since the confirmation that Light Yagami was not, in fact, Kira. It was also much more ground-shaking, for neither wizard had truly suspected Light in the first place. He didn't think he wanted to be too light or too serious about it…

"Well," said Matsuda uncomfortably, "things have been the same lately. Kira's back, Light's innocent, still chained to L. We're making a little headway with the Yotsuba Group, but I think I may have to try and infiltrate their headquarters at some point. Everyone will just suspect I'm a spontaneous idiot, so I think I may be able to get away with it."

Hatori was barely listening, just lamenting his lost hopes and dreams. He hated that it was Matsuda who had somehow wound up in the Kira Investigation.

"Also," began Matsuda, "we think there might be another Kira, in England."

Hatori looked uninterested. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. And I'm thinking that this Kira may be a wizard."

Hatori yawned. "Oh, really? Did the ability to kill people only by knowing a name and a face not tip you off?"

"The England-Kira has been making his victims carve a lightning bolt into their heads before they die," Matsuda said.

Finally, Hatori's interest was piqued. "Like that Harry Potter fella?"

"Exactly like that Harry Potter fella."

"That is interesting," admitted Hatori. "I'll see what I can do with this information."

_Finally. _The time had come. Dudley's death had come swiftly, but by no means painlessly. Harry was pleased to make eye contact with the boy through the living room window before he died. Two days later, Harry was woken by the sound of Petunia's footsteps against the stairs. He creeped out of his cupboard and followed her on her way back up the steps.

He stared into her eyes as she hung by her neck from the ceiling.

And now he was sitting at a small table (designed specifically for children) in a brightly colored room full of crayons, toys, and picture books. Ryuk was lounging atop a bookshelf and loudly lamenting the lack of apples. Harry would have snapped at him to be quiet, but he knew there was a security camera somewhere in the room, and didn't want to look like a nut.

Like a sad, broken boy with no family, but not a nut.

The door opened, and a social worker walked in. She was a short woman with bleach-blonde hair and skin so tanned it looked orange. She wore just a little too much makeup and her teeth seemed just a little too white.

"Hey, Harry," she said in a syrupy voice, crouching beside Harry. "I'm Sandra Frollic, and I'm going to find someone to take care of you. How are you feeling?"

Harry looked at her with his large, green eyes, and tried to look as confused and doe-like as he could. "Where's Aunt Tunie?" he asked. Sandra Frollic looked like she was about to cry.

She wrapped him in a warm hug. "I'm so sorry, Harry. You aren't going to be seeing Aunt Tunie anymore. We're going to find some nice people to be your new family, okay?"

"Why?" asked Harry. "Why can't I be with Aunt Tunie? And Dudley?" Sandra squeezed him a little tighter before releasing him from the embrace.

Ryuk gave a cackle. "This is so cheesy!" the Shinigami proclaimed. Harry ignored him.

"Where am I going?" Harry wondered.

Sandra sat back and dried her eyes, which had gone considerably damp since entering the room. "We're not sure yet," she admitted. "But there are some nice people who live in Ludlow, Shropshire who want to meet you. If they really do want to take care of you, that's where you'll go."

A week later, Harry sat beside Sandra on a train to Liverpool.

His new 'family' were robbed and killed eight days later.

Kyosuke Higuchi was dead. Light had the Death Note.

He was Kira.

Everyone else was freaking out about Higuchi's heart attack. Light made a face to go along with L's wide-eyed expression, but he couldn't focus of Higuchi right now. There was another Kira in England. He'd never planned for this. Misa was still in Japan, still devoid of all memories of her Death Note.

He was ticked. One obstacle fell, another was created. He didn't know who this imposter was, or who he thought he was, but he was no Kira. He was not the Kira. That someone thought they could just slip in and take his place was disgusting. He would have to death with this little Kira. Personally, if he had to.

L was frustrated. Higuchi was dead, but criminals continued to die. The second Kira? And the new Kira, the one in England, was becoming more and more difficult to keep track of. He appeared to be through with Surrey, and from what L understood, he'd been in Shropshire, Essex, and Kent. He was on the move, and L didn't know how to predict his next location.

His people in England were just as, of not more, befuddled as he was.

Now that he was no longer chained to Light, L could enjoy yelling at people over the phone in private.

"_Look, Ryusaki, we've left no stone unturned. Besides the lightning bolts, we have absolutely nothing to go on," _his female contact whined.

"Barb, did you really leave no stone unturned?" wondered L, his tone slightly hostile. "I bet you haven't investigated dead people, or worms under the stones."

"_The hell is that supposed to mean?"_

L sighed. "I don't know. Just go through records - people who have been in Surrey, Shropshire, Essex, and Kent over the course of the last month. Everyone, Barb - cadavers, children, I don't care." L hung up and flopped onto the floor.

Sandra was beginning to get suspicious of Harry's caretakers continuous misfortune. She wasn't the superstitious type, but…

"_It's a good thing you specified that I should look into cadavers and children as well," _drawled Barb over the phone. L stared directly at the other members of the Task Force as Barb spoke to him. They'd all gotten used to his habits since the beginning of the investigation and didn't care that he appeared to be addressing Matsuda as he spoke.

"And you found?" prompted L.

Barb sounded slightly confused as she spoke. "_Well, it's kinda weird, Ryusaki. Me and Shroom dug through files and records - even emails. We did find one person who has been in all the locations in the given time. What's more, the criminals even started dying not a day or two after he arrived, and stopped dying a day or two after he would leave. And you know how they've been carving lightning bolts into their foreheads? Guess what - this guy has a lightning bolt scar on his face."_

"Except…?" L droned.

"_Except, Ryusaki, this guy - Harry James Potter is his name - he's a five-year-old," _Barb blurted. "_Me and Shroom - we just can't believe a frickin' toddler's been killing people." _L hung up on Barb and turned his attention to the rest of his comrades.

Soichiro spoke first. "L, what is it?" he asked eagerly, almost worriedly.

Light spoke next: "Do we have a lead on Kira? Or the new Kira?"

L selected a lollipop from the plethora that Watari presented to him. "We do have a very good lead on the new Kira. My contacts have even figured out who he is. But I don't think we should call him just 'Kira' anymore… He's a little killer…"

"Like 'Ritorukira'?" offered Matsuda.

L rolled his eyes. "Sure, call him that. Anyway, his name is Harry Potter. According to my contacts, he's a five year old."

"You're going to Leiston, Suffolk tomorrow," Sandra said. "Are you ready?"

Harry was sitting on the floor and coloring. From what Sandra could tell, it was a large, demonic beast-man. She hoped to God he wasn't having nightmares. Then again, from what he's been through, at his age, why wouldn't he be? She would have to arrange for him to get psychological assistance.

"Sandy," began Harry - he had long since started calling her by her nickname - "why is everyone dying?"

It made Sandra's heart throb. She ran her orange fingers through his hair, which she'd tried to tame very often but could never get to lay flat. "I don't know, Harry. People die. I don't get why so many people have to die around you, though."

Harry's new home in Suffolk was with Barbara and Winston Shroom, a newlywed couple. Barbara was, unfortunately, infertile, and since they've always dreamed of having a family, the two had elected to adopt.

Their welcome was warmer and more genuine than any of the welcomes Harry had received to date. It was almost cheesy. Harry suspected they were just acting.

So they were liars. He couldn't wait to write their names into the Death Note.

Sandra reminded the two that Harry would be receiving extensive therapy to help cope with the loss of his family and previous caretakers. Sandra said goodbye to Harry ("If we meet again, I hope to God it's a bookstore or something," she'd said) and left, teary-eyed. Harry liked Sandra, despite her fake tan, bleached hair and teeth, and fluorescent pink sense of dress.

Barbara ("Call me 'Mummy'!") led Harry up to his new room, which was a sickening display of generic, boyish playthings and elephant wallpaper. Upon entering the room, he immediately decided he hated the place.

Ryuk was equally displeased. "I'm a Death God!" he'd whined as Barbara yammered about where she'd purchased the dresser, and how the quilt on the bed was a gift from her mom. "Kill these people quick, Harry - it's disgusting!" Harry agreed. But he had to take care of the criminals first.

Barbara left to let Harry settle in.

The boy proceeded to empty his suitcase, an old hand-me-down from Dudley Harry had been given after his aunt and cousins untimely demises. He removed several pairs of too-large socks and pants and shirts, arranging them carefully in the dresser.

Now to hide his most prized possession - the Death Note. Harry took it from his backpack, a gift from Sandra, and hid it amongst the colorful books Barbara and Winston Shroom had provided him with. The pens went on the bedside table. Harry had also brought an apple for Ryuk, which the Shinigami refused to eat when his gaze fell over the Death God.

"There are cameras here," hissed Ryuk. "Put it away. I'm going to look for wires and stuff."

So he was being watched, too.

Harry suspected that Barbara Shroom and Winston Shroom were not who they said they were.

Winston soon popped his head in and informed him it was time for supper. Harry put on his mask of innocence and happily followed Winston ("Now, now, Harry. You can call me 'Dad.'") down the stairs.

"I'm going to go for a walk," Harry told his new 'parents' after school one day. Ryuk had reported that the whole house was full of cameras and wires. If there was just suspicion before, now Harry knew for sure - these two clowns were a fraud.

He'd been sloppy. That was the only explanation. Somebody had figured him out. He would have to pretend not to have noticed yet, lure his caretakers into a false sense of achievement - and slaughter them.

That would be their deaths. They would live through all the pain of slaughter and die at Harry's whim.

But he'd have to work outside the house, and he'd need their real names. If they were spying on him, he doubted they'd be stupid enough to go around saying who they really were.

"I'll go with you!" cheered Barbara, standing up from her seat in the sitting room quickly.

Harry made his sad face. "I kinda just wanted to walk on my own…"

"Come now," Winston said, "let your mother walk with you."

_This is a good chance to be an emotional five year old. _"You _aren't my mother!" _Harry shouted. "I don't _have _a mother! She died years ago in a car crash! My mother is _dead!" _Harry stormed out of the house, willing tears to well up in his eyes.

Ryuk gave a chuckle. "That was good," said the Shinigami. "Think they're gonna follow you now?"

Harry checked his jacket for wires before responding. "No," he said. He dried his fake tears on his sleeve. "They're actors. If they're good enough actors, they'll let me think that Barbara is getting comforted by her husband, they're going to think of how to apologize for being so pretentious, and let me blow off some steam. Now, I'm going to get some apples and newspapers."

Harry stopped at a little shop and made good on his words, buying a few apples for his Shinigami friend and newspapers to kill people. There was a park nearby and Harry had already located a nice, shady hill to murder people on.

"Report," demanded L.

"_He buys a lot of apples, goes on a lot of walks, and we think he talks to himself," _Winston Shroom reported.

L nodded thoughtfully, glancing up at Rem. The Shinigami had revealed herself to them upon Ryusuke Higuchi's death, and had explained the Death Note. It was likely that Harry Potter had a Death Note.

Could the apples be for him, or the Shinigami following the boy? Talking to himself… to the Shinigami, more like.

God, a five year old. It was sick.

Light wanted L dead.

But, logically, given the situation, that would be difficult. Ryuk had not appeared for Misa when she regained a Death Note, and with this 'Ritorukira' marching around, he was distracted. He had a plan to have Rem kill L, bore she herself passed away, but if would only work if L started to seriously suspect Misa again. Distracted by Ritorukira, Harry Potter, L was too busy to start pointing fingers again.

It was frustrating. And Light was on thin ice as it was - if he started hinting at Misa, _he _would be put under suspicion.

So, logically, Light would have to kill Harry Potter.

He had his name. Getting his face would be easy. Ask L to look at the file - Harry Potter would be dead, Light could go back to business.

But what if L noticed that Ritorukira died when he let Light look at the file? He would suspect Light, not Misa, and things would fall apart again.

And why wasn't Ryuk with Misa? Things had been planned out so that _Ryuk would follow Misa._

Todays meeting place was a tiny bookshop.

"Ritorukira is Harry Potter?" Hatori Mouto parroted blankly.

"Yes," Matsuda said.

Hatori began speaking quickly: "I'm going to have to get in touch with the British Ministry, have them organize a team of Aurors, and apprehend Harry Potter. They won't like arresting their savior, especially when he's barely out of diapers, but they'll like their savior being a murderer even less. Matsuda - God, what do I do with you? - Matsuda, talk to L. See if you can't get your hands in England. Maybe if you do something useful there, the British Ministry of Magic will keep you," Hatori rambled.

They became aware of the employee staring at them, and began talking quieter. They did have a charm around them, but their mouths didn't appear to be whispering.

"I'll see what I can do," Matsuda said.

"We can't arrest him," Barb said. Shroom looked up, bored.

It was late one night at their fake house, where they were watching Ritorukira closely. The secret basement had been turned into a surveillance room, with computer monitors set up everywhere.

"I know," Winston replyed.

"He's five years old, for Christ's sake," Barb continued. "At the most, we can admit him to an insane asylum, but he can't go to _prison. _And he's proved to be a good actor - if he does go to an asylum, what if he tricks the doctors and gets out? Then what?"

Shroom shrugged. "I dunno. That's a bridge we'll cross when we come to it," he said.

"That's not good enough," grumbled Barb.

"We could just keep him here," Shroom suggested. "You know, we could take away his - what did Ryusaki call it? A Death Note? - we can take that away from him, and like, raise him to be a law-abiding member of society. He's young enough, his mind's still malleable."

It seemed like a better idea than prison or an asylum. Barb picked up the phone. She was sharing the idea with L.

Behind them, Ryuk gave an icy cackle, low at first, but soon a gleeful and loud. Harry was gonna love this.

A week later. Harry was fast asleep, in his embarrassing bed with it's blue and white quilt, snoring softly. Shroom creeped into his room. Three weeks of surveillance had shown that he kept what he and Barb suspected to be the Death Note on the shelf. It was disguised as any other book - it had a colorful and innocent mask - but Shroom and Barb knew. L especially knew.

Shroom removed it from the shelf, and took it down to the secret basement.

There, he and Barb removed the fake cover. It was a sleek black notebook with two words written across the front:

_Death Note_

So it was true. Any sliver of doubt was eliminated. Harry Potter was Ritorukira.

Barb picked up the phone to report to L.

"L, I would like to go to England and help your contacts keep track of Ritorukira," declared Matsuda. L shifted his gaze to the bumbling buffoon. Soichiro, Aizawa, and Mogi all looked at Matsuda with wide-eyes.

"Explain," ordered L.

Matsuda took a moment to articulate it correctly. "I want to help in this investigation. I feel like I can get close to Ritorukira - pretend to be one or your contacts siblings, or pose as a neighbor. If I can get close to Ritorukira, I can help shape him into a decent person. A teacher! I could be a teacher. Teacher's have influence."

L leaped over the table and put his fingers on Matsuda's mouth to silence him. "We have to be discreet," L said. With that, the detective stood, and walked away.

Harry's Death Note was replaced with a fake. Winston he copied all the names and causes of death into it. _This kid killed his family, _he thought with a shudder. _And not even mercifully._ There were dozens of names in the Death Note, and copying them all down, whilst mimicking Harry's handwriting (which was oddly precise for a five year old. Then again, Harry was hardly a normal five year old), turned into an all-night job.

An hour or two before dawn, Barb took the real Death Note away to be hidden, and Winston slipped the fake into the cover, and placed it back onto the bookshelf.

All the while, Ryuk watched with a smirk.

Harry would be so angry.

Harry felt more like a parent. Like a parent with two very naughty children, who needed very much to be grounded. He wondered if L was involved with this. There was no doubt.

"Ryuk," Harry began, as he took his normal after-school walk, "do you know where Barbara took my Death Note?"

"Yeah," said the Shinigami.

"Can you fetch it for me? Replace it with their fake one?"

A week later, Harry had his Death Note back. And Matsuda was in Suffolk.

He was posing as Mr. Yuuta Wakahisa, a new teacher at Leiston's primary school. His story was rather believable, he thought: a recently divorced school teacher from Japan, moving as far away from his ex-wife as he could, but retaining the same occupation as it was one of the few things he knew how to do. A legal citizen of Leiston, Suffolk, England, at least for the case.

Matsuda, or Yuuta, whatever, would be taking on the role of a math teacher. He was more suited to the role of a gym teacher, but Leiston's primary school wasn't in any need of a new teacher of that particular subject. However, Mrs. Locksley had just moved to Miami in America, so there was room for Yuuta Wakahisa.

Monday morning, Matsuda got his first look at the magical world's savior.

Harry Potter was skinny, pale, with dark circles under his eyes and hair that appeared to be going in fifteen directions at once.

Matsuda suddenly wished that Hatori had managed to persuade the British Ministry to help them. Harry Potter looked skinny and fragile, but something about him put him on edge…


	2. Author's Note

**A.N. **So, originally, I wrote up this series of snippets featuring Harry Potter with a Death Note. It was shoddy and poorly executed, littered with plot holes and inconsistencies, all with the underlying tone of me not knowing a goddamn thing about child psychology. But the feedback was simply marvelous, so I'm starting a full-length fic because I enjoyed writing the original. There are, however, plenty of things changed around, such as:

**Harry's age. **In my original _Ritorukira, _Harry was 4-6. Honestly I think that's too young, because I want him to kill at Hogwarts. Also, he won't be killing the Dursleys. Well, maybe Vernon, but I like Petunia, and Dudley grows out of his asshole-stage eventually. So in the new version, it begins a month or so before his eleventh birthday.

**Harry's usage of the Death Note. ** He's a little older now and his morale is solidified. Harry doesn't go killing people willy-nilly, and is actually far more freaked out by the Death Note than in the original. This is because he's already had it drilled in his head that magic is not a thing, and he should be very, very afraid. In the new one, his Slytherin side wins over a bit more and he uses it to achieve the 'greater good' (his own good). It also causes him to become obsessed with the idea of magic to do with death, which leads him to be a Dark!Harry. Or at least a gray!Harry.

**The Shinigami: **Ryuk acted as Harry's Shinigami in the original, but I'm currently constructing my own Shinigami to be Harry's. This is because the time period when the fic begins is edited and Ryuk needs to chill with Light. *also, Light/L/etc won't be showing up a lot until a little later. Harry needs to get established first, plus, Light just discovers his own Death Note around the same time as Harry.

**The Role of Ritorukira: **Ritorukira is the Voldemort to Kira's Dumbledore, basically. He doesn't dream of a perfect, just world, and doesn't clockwork-kill criminals. He is, simply, very Slytherin with his Death Note. Now, Harry does possess a Gryffindor half, so he ain't killing anyone who doesn't have to die, but he does kill for his own good. Unfortunately, L still catches wind so he's still publicly deemed 'little killer' despite that he and Kira's motives are near opposites.

That seems to be all. I plan on having the first chapter up, maybe by **February first. **I actually really do love this idea so I have no intention of rushing it. Hopefully a new chapter can be expected every month, though. Hell, this may have accidentally become my new years resolution. Fuck.


End file.
